Ebb and Flow....Photo Essay

It hasn't been all rain since November.  Although the native Aussies have been apologizing for the cold and rainy weather, temperatures have been in the 20s C and we've seen more sun in this, Queensland's rainiest season on record, than we saw in the last few years in Germany.  We really weren't complaining. 

Rain started in earnest in December, with pockets of sunshine.  Right before we got here, in October, the local dam was at at 16% low.  By last week it was at 120%.  Within 2 days it was at 190%.  Because the slow and steady rains had soaked the grounds and because the rain just didn't stop for two days this past Monday and Tuesday.

But this is supposed to be a photo essay.

The pictures on Monday's blog were taken throughout December.  Lots of umbrellas.  Lots of irony at leaving the rain in Germany to be greeted by rain here.  A funny blog (not yet posted) apologizing for bringing it with us,

http://twintensity.blogspot.com/2011/01/rowing-news-from-just-outside-flood.html

Photos in this blog were taken in Brisbane just last Sunday, before the floodwaters began to rise on Monday.  At that point the river was almost level to the ground but...Damon's famous last words...can you even IMAGINE how much water it would take to raise a river this size any level at all?

http://twintensity.blogspot.com/2011/01/still-rowing.html

And this photo was taken on Bribey Island on January 2, when we took advantage of the one day of sunshine to celebrate Ryan's birthday.  I look back on other photos of us smiling in the sun over the past two months and feel as if we've experienced ancient history in our so very short time here.  Of course, I invite you to look back over the blog to check over those photos!

AS PROMISED...THE EBB AND FLOW OF THE LAST FEW DAYS.





Noon on Tuesday, November 11, just 10 meters down the road.  We're pretty impressed at this point that the foot bridge is under water and the water has risen to 2 meters.

Our road under water and cut off.  Noon on Tuesday.

That same road four hours later at 4 PM on Tuesday, January 11.  The sign on the left is barely seen on the precious photo when Damon thought the 2 meter mark was worth recording.  Now the 2 meter mark is under water and the waters are halfway up the road sign.

4 PM Tuesday.  This is about when we thought that the rivers might merge to cut off our path of escape and considered evacuating.

THAT'S the side we have to get to to get to school! 

Just love the irony.  Road and nearby yards completely underwater.

Awe-inspiring to see.  But quiet here.  And no call to evacuate.

The waters HERE receded overnight and this morning, Wednesday, it was safe to walk.

Really.  This is our road 18 hours after peak flood. (What do you think of the neighborhood?!)
The sun is out.  30C.  And dry.  Bridge undamaged and cars passing.

That's the yard that was completely underwater 18 hours ago.  (Gotta LOVE the neighborhood!)  Sunny and dry.

Our beautiful road in the sunshine Wednesday morning.  I never imagined I would be impressed enough by pavement to post a picture of it!



And lookie there - a bridge!  Note the 2 meter mark and the tiny trickle of water on the left flowing down the opposite roadway into what is once again a tiny creek.

What a beautiful road!



Although we were ready to leave on Tuesday.  I realize the mini-life vests seem silly in light of the tsunami photos.  But you take what you got.



Ryan and Andrew staying informed with our borrowed TV set.

Emergency supplies also included bowling balls for Aidan and Matthew.

Ryan and Aidan in our pool Wednesday.  While tragedy unfolds all around us we seem to be wrapped in a bubble of safety and normalcy. 

Miss Scarlet.  In the living room.  With the rope.

It's 2 AM on Thursday, January 13, and I am up watching newsreel reruns.

It's still odd that the people of Brisbane are facing their worst hour right about now - flood levels are expected to peak in the next couple of hours - and while there is nothing I can do, it also seems weird to be sleeping in a dry bed, in my intact home, with all amenities intact, while people are losing everything they own just a few miles away.

Life continues tomorrow.  Damon has appointments and we need food and supplies.  Tomorrow the great challenge of returning to normalcy begins.

Surreal, Dear Editor, Surreal...

Arggh.  The only photo I could get up before the service shut off.  That's our road.  Way past the 2 meter mark.  Love the sign.  No kidding, right?!  Will post some more images of our little creek as well as a few of how the kids have been spending their time once the service is up and running again.  Arggh.  The luxury of anger over small inconveniences.

A year ago today I was at the Stern Center mall in Sindelfingen, Germany when Damon called to tell me that Haiti had suffered a 7+ earthquake.

The magnitude of the disaster dwarfed my everyday struggles with my VW – which wouldn't start that afternoon and which I then ran into a snowbank, intentionally, later that same evening.

I coped with my feelings of helplessness and self-indulgence by chanelling a fictitious Christine trapped under the rubble in Port-au-Prince, another reality to the Christine also trapped, but in Germany. My German life seemed artificial and meaningless, especially in comparison to the immediacy of life I had felt as a Peace Corps volunteer in Haiti.

http://twintensity.blogspot.com/2010/01/two-worlds.html

The piece I wrote was very well received by my writers' group in Stuttgart and was even published by Klett for use in their online ESL program. Other than that, nothing much happened. I still haven't looked for publishers. I've written more about Christine, but shared it with noone. I started a novel about Haiti. It sucked. It was just too large for me to handle.

My editor at Klett cut the word 'surreal' from the piece. Too fluffy.....not immediate enough.

All of which shows I still haven't connected with the tragedies of people around me as I sit in as position of relative peace, safety, and wealth. It IS surreal.

Today I sit at my home in Queensland, safe from the flood waters, worried about the lack of chemicals in the pool, catching up on a week's worth of laundry while 75% of Queensland lies under water around me. Again, it is surreal. Even the newscasters say so, so it must be true!

At the moment I am as far away from the tragedies unfolding just down the road as I was a year ago from the tragedies in Haiti.

And this is tragic. It is the largest national disaster in Australia's history. (Unless you ask the aborigines and count James Cook as a national disaster.) The largest NATURAL disaster then.

Scenes on the TV remind me of Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans a few years ago. The ferocity of nature is awe-inspiring. But only when you aren't directly in its path.

Since I can't relate to it all without using terms like surreal, I look at statistics. And realize, once again, how lucky we are here. We have 10 deaths so far, from the flash flooding of an inland tsunami to the west of us two days ago. The flood waters have been slowly rising for weeks, and even now, with the worst of it expected in Brisbane overnight, people have been warned and evacuated.

2 deaths in Brisbane so far, out of a population of 2 million people. As compared to 200,000 deaths in Port-au-Prince, a city of 1,250,000. As compared to almost 2,000 in New Orleans, also a city of 1,250,000. What we have going for us is the nature of the disaster – relentless flooding as opposed to an instant disaster, as well as infrastructure, relief workers and the promise of help in the future. Fancy words and genuine international effort aside, what does the future look like for Haiti?

It will be tough – 2 million people alone is 10% of the people in Australia. (It's a HUGE country, with a comparatively TINY TINY population!) And that's not including the rest of Queensland. In our (relatively unaffected) area alone the bridges are out to neighboring towns, roads are cut, communities split off. Homes and businesses in affected areas will need to be rebuilt.

Then again, the electricity will come on again. (We were without it for a while yesterday and that really DOES make it all hit home. How will we get information? How much battery life on the laptops? The mobile phone? How are we going to boil water in the event of contamination.? How are we going to see if we have to pack up and leave? And yes, the bags were at the door.) Clean water has been contaminated in some areas. Ross Fever and Dengue will be concerns as mosquitoes already infest still waters, but we have no cholera, typhoid or malaria here. And public health agencies are in place to deal with this as rapidly as possible.

The worst of the flooding hasn't even hit us yet and already agencies are setting up to provide relief funds to affected families.

Somehow, I don't see Queenslanders living in tent cities a year after the disaster. (And most of Haiti didn't have electricity, potable water or proper sanitation, roads, phones, hospitals, and the list goes on, even before the earthquake.)

Then again, I look at pictures of Haiti and see beauty and hope on those faces too.

We are spending this disaster playing Clue (Ryan is kicking our butts!) and getting to know our neighbors. It did get a little hairy for a bit there yesterday when, after hours blogging, completely and blissfully unaware of the tragedy unfolding around me, I stepped outside and saw that the two rivers surrounding us had flooded their banks and were threatening to connect in a circle around us, cutting off escape. We called friends to cancel Ryan's birthday party on Saturday (honestly, the silly things you worry about, right?) and when they heard we still didn't have a TV, they drove right on over – roundabout the flooded bridge - and lent us one so that we could stay informed. They also brought games for the kids.

Later when the electriticity went out, new neighbors across the way stopped by with candles and ice for the refrigerator.  Four more families stopped by or called to see if we needed food.

Today, new neighbors have offered us their extra car so that Damon can get to appointments over the next few weeks. (Busses and rails are sporadic right now.) Another friend finally realized what we meant when we said that we have no furniture and were sleeping on mattresses. (It means we have no furniture and are sleeping on mattresses, but I guess people assume we are exaggerating.) A bunk – bed is coming. And another friend was angry we didn't take HIS old TV weeks ago.

These are all people we called to check on to see if they needed help.

And they are helping us.

Thing is we feel fortunate to be where we are. (And while people seem appalled at our lack of amenities, we knew what we were in for when we started over again on a new continent.) There are thousands of folks sleeping on shelter floors right now. Without mattresses. We are not the only Queenslanders without furniture or car. At least we have our home.

What do you do in the face of such tremendous need? Do we say 'no' to offers of help because there are others in even greater need?

We decided quickly to take the help. So that we can better help ourselves and therefore be in a better position to help others. (There is also the karmic feeling of having done the same for others in Germany when we gave our stuff away before leaving.)

Damon is hoping to join neighbors heading into Brisbane over the weekend to help whoever needs it in any way they can.

I still feel guilty that I didn't do more to help Haiti last year. And so I feel privileged to be able to help this year. I am happy we decided to move here when we did. It is only right that we share in the tragedy – and rebuilding – of our new state and country.

And, my editor will be pleased to note, not at all surreal.

Still Rowing....

Four homes down is the creek we cross to get to school.  The marker shows 2 meters.  The creek SHOULD be flowing UNDER the bridge.  Bridge, you ask?  2 meters down.

But the road past our house has been closed for days now. Rockhampton, where the brown snakes and crocodiles (but not the ones that'll eat you, mind, just the ones that'll take a bite outta ya!) are coming into homes with the flood waters, is an hour north and west. New South Wales is as far away as Florida from New York. So that our biggest problem has been a wet yard and an overflowing pool running out of salt. Since the salt comes from Rockhampton.

Today the names of flood zones are starting to sound familiar. Low-lying areas in Strathpine are being urged to evacuate. That's where the mall and the library are. That's where we go to the movies and lunch. That's only ten minutes away by car. Which you can't drive because roads all around us are closed. And you can't use the bus or train because they aren't running. Brisbane – BRISBANE, for crying out loud, is sand-bagging against flooding.

We were just there Saturday. On the water and then the museum when the rains started again.

We can't get to the beach because Caboolture, on the way, is cut off.  And Bribey Island, where our beach is, is closed.  The circle is closing.  Bray Park, the community next to ours, is being evacuated.  Only the low lying areas. mind you.

And the rain just doesn't stop.

It is really awe-inspiring.

Hamming it up outside the museum in Brisbane on Saturday

I think of so many tragedies in the world. The shooting in Arizona. (My GOD America, do you really need to CREATE your OWN disasters?) Tsunamis and earthquakes in the past two years. And Haiti. Of course I think about Haiti. It's been almost a year. And nothing has changed. Except maybe for Sean Penn who really seems to have found his element, God bless him.

And I think of how lucky we are to be here even in the midst of the flooding. I have NEVER EVER seen rain and water at this magnitude and I have seen a LOT, not only in Europe but also in Haiti and Africa. The rain hasn't stopped in 48 hours. After weeks of almost continuous rain that has the previously sun-baked earth around us looking like a marsh. Until now it has just been weeks of wet, and dark, but now there is thunder and lightning. With no signs of stopping and the waters rising around us. And more and more rain predicted for the rest of the week.  Highs aren't even expected until later in the week.  This is only the beginning.

I think of the folks in Toowoomba who spent the night on their roofs waiting for the helicopters this morning. And of how I would HATE to have to do that in the lightning.  (And I think of the 8 dead and 70 missing and realize those were the lucky ones too.)

At least it is warm here though, and no one is freezing.

And at least we have roads and dams and evacuation plans and emergency crews.  (Friends, neighbors and family - Aunt Merle - have been in constant contact today, offering trips to the supermarket, a TV set which we have finally accepted and board games and building blocks for the kids.  Everyone is checking up on eachother and everyone is helping.  The worst always brings out the best in people everywhere.)

Flooding of this magnitude would devastate Haiti as much as last year's earthquake did.

I'm writing to let everyone know we are all right. And we are.

But as the dam waters continue to thunder out the gates – the levels are at 172% and rising – you realize just how much an illusion your sense of control really is. We feel lucky that we don't have much to lose – although our crates have now arrived in Brisbane harbor and are being sand-bagged as I write. I liked the idea of them on a boat all this time. What better place but on an ark?! Until I realized today that if they do get flooded – that if we lose those ten years of photo albums and all my books – well, I realized what those crazy people on TV who have lost everything mean when they say that their possessions really weren't that important in the first place.

For me, a bad day in Australia is better than a good day anywhere else.

I'm SUPPOSED to be rowing THIS boat down THIS stream.

Funny though, all this time I'd been imagining a kayak, not a police escort to a highschool gymnasium on high ground!  (Don't worry - it'll be a LandRover and it'll be at Emily's.)

Again, WE ARE FINE! WE ARE HOME. WE ARE NOT BEING EVACUATED. And, while we are SURROUNDED by flooding and evacuation, the general consensus of neighbors who gathered to watch the creek flood its banks is that Lawnton is on high ground relative to surrounding area.  The water would have to rise by 45 meters for us to be in danger.  We are at 2 and rising.  So far we are to remain where we are. Still plenty of puzzle pieces to work on, more Clue games to play and a TV and DVDS on the way.

Still rowing...

Rowing (News from just outside the Flood Zone)

I thank you if you are too worried about us to appreciate the irony. We leave Germany after the coldest, darkest, wettest summer anyone can remember, bitching and moaning about the terrible climate in Europe, only to end up in the midst of the largest flooding in recorded Australian history. Which, although admittedly short, still shows that Australia likes to do things bigger than anyone else.

If you haven't picked up a paper or turned on the TV recently (which we hadn't!) let me be the first to inform you that the size of the CURRENT flood area in western Queensland is larger than the size of Texas, another place that likes to do things BIG! Texas, I believe is a quarter of the size of the USA (excluding Alaska, which alone is more than twice the size of Texas and I believe one-third the size of the continental USA). I'm awed by scale.

To put this in a European context, the area of the flooding is more than the size of France and Germany COMBINED.

I say CURRENT flood area because it is still raining. Heavily. And unbelievably continuously. Meine Damen und Herren, Mesdames et Messieurs, we may have lost the Ashes to England this year (honestly, whatever THAT means, but it is apparently a pretty big deal!), but we've got the highest recorded rainfall.

In a country whose early exploration is measured in lives lost to drought.

Before we came, eastern Australia had been experiencing two years of severe drought. The dam in our area – the one that has supposedly been saving our butts up until now – was measuring 16% capacity. All five gates are now open and spewing torrents of excess water. Where I am not sure. I don't quite get how dams are saving us from flooding. Capturing the excess water up to a point, I guess. Controlled release perhaps. There is talk of building more dams – always an issue in Australia – to prevent flooding in the future. Although dams destroy natural habitat. And although this has never happened before.

It's an illusion of control.

There is something awe-inspiring about being in the center.

This, of course, because we have been protected by the dam until now, and because we are safe at home with plenty of food. And water. Hah hah. We also stocked up on puzzles and board games (Ryan and Andrew are old enough to play CLUE now – YAY US!) at the mall on Sunday. And bought a sound system that includes a radio for public emergency broadcasting. And a CD player for dancing to Shakira.

So that so far our biggest concern has been keeping the kids amused indoors for weeks at a time. Something I am used to post-Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere. The absence of a TV has actually helped, I think, since we were forced to rely on ourselves early on and not lulled into semi-catatonia early on by relentless TV watching.

We've made it to the movies twice. (GO SEE TANGLED! It is AWESOME.)

The sun came out on January 2, for Ryan's birthday and we made it to the beach.

We're on the fourth Harry Potter book, the fourth of a unicorn series, a few Star Wars. Andrew is half-way through the Beast Quest series. Ryan has read a handful of chapter books ON HER OWN.

Damon had read all the Harry Potters and Star Wars books aloud and has read three more on his own. Something he hasn't had time to do in years.

We're also working on a 750 piece puzzle, having worked our way through a half- dozen 100 piece puzzles. The twins can do 50 pieces on their own.

Matthew can spell his name, my name, Aidan's name, Opa and Meka. In upper AND lower case.

Aidan is starting to spell his.

I've begun working on inverted poses in yoga. Which means the kids walk into the bedroom and have to speak to me upside down from where I'm doing a headstand in the corner. And I can do a downward dog with two four-year olds crawling around underneath me playing tunnel.

I've also started Qi-Gong in the mornings and am FINALLY getting the hang of meditating.

The kids, meanwhile, are running around in their underwear. But -as I see it – after six weeks indoors – we are doing pretty good!

We've had Aunt Merle, Damon's Nana's cousin, checking up on us regularly. And the neighbors offering rides to the market for supplies.  The TV and extra games for the kids just showed up - donated by a friend from school in order to keep us in touch with evacuation information and to keep the kids from beating eachother silly while we wait for news.  They've also offered to host us  - they live on TOP of the hill that we live on the bottom of - even after seeing all four kids and knowing what they are getting themselves into by offering.   So that we are taken care of.
 

The worst we've had to do is cancel Ryan's birthday party on January 15.  Since she's traditionally had her party in June anyway, she's being a trooper about it.  And we've been invited to that same friend's house to play Wwii instead.  If the creek between our house and theirs recedes from the road and neighborhood (I'll post the photos separately in order to explain them) and decides to become a creek again that is.

It's all good.  Because we have friends, neighbors and family watching out for us.

Dear Oprah

Having defined the new breed of American-Australians, I now find myself writing for them.

Dear Oprah,

Because, let's face it, if you want to speak to the United States, it's best to begin with Oprah.

Dear Oprah,

We're glad you like our country, we really are. We like it too. And yes, the Australians really are the most unbelievably friendly people you will ever meet. Even if you aren't wealthy enough to buy an 18 bath home while you are here.

We can't blame you for being surprised at how fantastic it is. Or that it is here at all, for that matter. Most of us didn't know Sydney from Melbourne when we got here either.

And we're not going to blame you for comparing us to Disneyworld. (Well, okay, maybe some of us are.) It's okay. You're not only human, and therefore fallible, but you are also American. How can you know that the highest compliment you can pay someone just might NOT be comparing them to America?

You are the best of what America has to offer. You are kind and you care. (Thanks for all those laptop computers by the way, nice work.)  You do good and you mean well.

Which is why we are sure you will share our concerns with the American public, and perhaps even the world.

Australia really does seem like the best place on earth. Newsweek liked it too.

What they don't tell you about is the spiders.

Sure, we got sun.

But did they mention the snakes?

The education system is one of the best in the world. (Sure beats the heck out of the USA.)

But have we mentioned the sharks?

Endless opportunity. Jobs.

But you know that most of the country is desert, right?

Universal health care that works.

And saltwater crocodiles. Good thing about the health care.

A coastline of white sand beaches.

Surrounded by the deadliest jellyfish in the world.

All of which doesn't mean that we don't want your tourism dollars.

Maybe it's best you do think of us as Disneyworld.

Better yet, as Atlantis.

We are a figment of the imagination, Oprah, a happy dream, a charming memory.

We're something nice to reflect upon when the weight of the real world seems too much for American shoulders.

But let us lie quietly, dear Oprah, under the Southern Cross,

Protected by the waves of the Pacific.

And the sharks, dear Oprah, don't forget the sharks.

Flotsam

We've discovered some unexpected flotsam on our trips to the beach here.

Flotsam, as in: 

1.the part of the wreckage of a ship and its cargo found floating on the water. Compare jetsam, lagan.

2. material or refuse floating on water.

3.useless or unimportant items; odds and ends.

4.a vagrant, penniless population: the flotsam of the city slums in medieval Europe

(taken from dictionary.com)

While I don't think of us as useless or unimportant, vagrant population fits and I like that concept of odds and ends.

And it fits better than jetsam, which as it turns out is: goods cast overboard deliberately, as to lighten a vessel or improve its stability in an emergency, which sink where jettisoned or are washed ashore. (also from dictionary.com)

Our being here is chance and good fortune, nothing deliberate about it.

The flotsam that finds its way to us, as kindred spirits with familiar accents, are other American-Australians. (African-American-Australian, Irish-American-Australian, German-American-Australian; the most important part being the Australian.) Turns out we are part of a once-unknown species that may be more prevalent in Australia than previously supposed. It's hard to tell. We're pretty scattered. We breed with the local population. (In fact, that seems to be what got most of us over here in the first place!) But more than that, we love it here so much, that we don't make waves.

If you look closely, you might be able to pick us apart from the other Australians by our goofy grins of disbelief. We just can't believe we're here. We just can't believe how lucky we are and how good we have it. (We're the ones who cry during the national anthem and take pictures of the flag.)

We do tend to cluster in small groups and exchange phone numbers. If you listen closely (and can understand our accent) you'll hear us talk about things other Australians take for granted. ''And the schools, can you believe how good the schools are?'' ''Oh yeah, it's way better for raising kids than back in the U.S.'' (And no, I haven't heard ANY of us refer to it as 'back home.' More like, 'back there'.) And, of course, ''yeah, the Australians are unbelievable. So friendly. So laid back.''

General consensus of this flotsam is that we ended up in the right place.

''Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.''

Who would have thought we'd find the American dream?

Right here in Australia. 

Swimming Lessons

You've probably heard about the flooding we've been having here in New South Wales and Queensland. No? Well, it's one of the advantages of life down under. We escape the public eye. You have no idea what true freedom really is, America, until you disappear from the news.


After two years of drought, where it got so bad that the koalas were coming down out of their trees and begging for water from garden hoses, this past October was the beginning of the rainiest spring ever recorded in this area, since they started recording over one hundred years ago. (114 years, I believe, and that's a LONG time for this young country!) The creek down the road – the one they assured us hadn't flooded in over ten years – has flooded three times in December.

At one point, after a particularly rainy week, the kids looked at me and said, ''with all this rain, we might as well be back in Germany.'' I had to remind them that they were saying this dressed in shorts and T-shirts.

We've made it to the pool quite often though. The temperature has never dropped below 25C – the water temperature – which, although the Australians think we're crazy, is warmer than the pool in Hildrizhausen EVER was....HEATED! Plus, someone's gotta keep the water level down.

So that the twins have gone from being able to swim a few strokes from the side of the pool into my waiting arms to leaping and diving and dancing like porpoises upon the waves. Porpoises on crack cocaine, perhaps, but porpoises none-the-less.

We can't afford the swim lessons that every self-respecting Australian child takes every summer. Kids here swim earlier than German kids learn to ride two wheelers without training wheels. And let me tell you, that's pretty darn early. (Four, okay, the answer is four.) If they can't swim by prep school, they learn it there. With refresher courses every year. Swimming is big here. Yay me. How did I manage NOT to grow up in the country that so far encompasses every single one of the values I hold dear?!

Swimming. We swim almost daily and the boys jump and dive and twist and wriggle around the pool while Ryan gracefully guides her lithe figure between them doing her laps.

It ain't pretty. Aidan swims like Andrew did a few years ago. The lifeguard in Boeblingen almost went into early retirement. They both like to sink to the bottom, blowing bubbles on the way down, thrash about a bit under the water, and then surface after about thirty seconds to gasp and gulp for air. The trick to getting them to swim is to ignore the drama.   (Matthew meanwhile, cuts through the surface of the water like a shark; he is showing signs of being every bit as graceful as Ryan.)

Underwater they are all as graceful as porpoises. It is so much fun to see them twirl and dance. Underwater, they are birds in flight.

And, I think, what are swimming lessons this summer going to teach them that they aren't already learning on their own? Proper strokes would be nice. Staying above water a bit more will be helpful in the long run. But, the rest of it, the joy and the basic skills, they are learning as they dance and play.

They need to breathe. They need to stay afloat.  Eventually, they need to get to shore.

Which, it suddenly hits me, is what it's all about.